Once Upon A Hunter's Eve
by KeiGinya
Summary: Running away and forgetting about the past seems really good in theory. But it will only take a seemingly familiar face for Hermione's world to come crashing back down. Edward/Hermione. Cedric/Hermione sub-story. Essentially two stories in one.
1. Prologue

Title: Once Upon A Hunter's Eve  
Author: KeiGinya  
Beta(s): miyagiCE, gufymike  
Rating: **T** (violence, psychological sadism from the author, heavy topics and situations)  
Chapter Summary: Hugh Granger finds a property in Forks, Washington after the death of his wife.  
Chapter WC: 661 (661)  
Chapter Completion: 06/20/2009, 20:32:26  
Last Edited: 07/31/2009, 11:50:52  
Posted: July 31st, 2009**  
Disclaimer:** The characters used in this story are the properties of their respective copyright holders and no claim is being held upon them by this author. No profit is being made with the writing of this piece of fiction.

A/N: Usually, I don't separate the Prologues and First Chapter for consistency but it was necessary in this instance. You will see that the two have a totally different feel about them. The prologue is VERY important since it sets the mood for what the entire story would be like while hinting at certain things that would explain Hermione's state in the first few chapters.

* * *

The house was three stories tall, spread out in an area of green, with a separate building a little bit away that was a three-car garage, and a domed, glass conservatory in the back to complete the property. The sloping roofs were a blue-gray, the house itself painted a pale-blue with white trim, with a veranda wrapping around the main structure. There was a flagstone walkway to the house and driveway all the way to the gates, where the road became a cobblestone path for a mile before joining the public road.

The sky was clear, it was cool but humid, and pretty much completely different from the London townhouse. Being summer, it was relatively dry, but a majority of the year, Forks, Washington had an average of twelve inches of rain per month, making it the rainiest city in the States.

Hugh Granger stood on the flagstone driveway where it met the path to the house, after touring the interior, blue eyes slowly panning the grounds. The slightly balding agent waiting silently after realizing the reticence of his client.

He needed to get away from London after Rosaline died. The west coast of North America was the farthest he could think of from the city he had lived in for decades; Forks was a small town, prone to bad weather with almost constant cloud cover, and it was blessedly quiet and out of the way.

Rosaline and he had traveled to Seattle for a convention years ago, meandering around the state – being nature enthusiasts – where he had first heard mention of the tiny town of Forks and its reputation of constant, heavy rain.

Call Hugh maudlin but he could not stand good weather after his wife of twenty years was killed on a perfect summer day after a slew of bad ones. The thought of perpetual rain and clouds soothed him after simply being in London felt like an itch underneath the skin driving the forty-eight year old to almost completely lose it.

The dark-haired man wanted to – oh he wanted to wail, cry, and melt into a blubbering, mucus-covered mess – but he could not. Not with his precious daughter having to suffer another loss in such quick succession.

Losing her first love – _real_, true to God, love – and then witnessing her mother dying so violently? Hermione had collapsed the evening she came back from that blasted magic school, talking about how a boy she knew for years died when she acknowledged her own feelings for him not twenty-four hours before. She had confessed to Rosaline, who had told him with tear-filled eyes their daughter lost what might have been 'the one', only to lose Rosaline herself not even a week later, in addition to personally witnessing her mother's broken body fall to the ground; lifeless.

Hugh knew he had to be strong for his daughter, who he tried to keep from paperwork that just cemented the fact her mother was dead, being unable to shield her when she went to Hogwarts. He had sent her to visit her friend Harry Potter the day he had to arrange the funeral, which had been trying and painful and heartbreaking.

The man had kept Hermione occupied with the plans of moving, letting her handle the paperwork involved in transferring her magical education to the States. Hugh knew his daughter well; how focused she can be, how Hermione could push away everything else when concentrated on something – a trait passed down from himself.

Hermione had Rosaline's curls and ocher eyes but she had always been daddy's little girl.

Hugh shifted, moving his trench-coat aside to dig for a lighter as his other hand lifted the pack to his mouth. The cigarette dangled from his lips as he lit up the last cigarette he'd smoke in the foreseeable future, taking a drag before exhaling slowly.

"I'll take it."

* * *

End Notes: As an aside, if you're looking for mushy romance, this is not the story for you (and you could just go and stick with your copy of Twilight or something). _Edit_: lowered the rating after some extensive thought and looking at a comparison of other stories on the site.


	2. Remnants

Title: Once Upon A Hunter's Eve  
Author: KeiGinya  
Beta(s): miyagiCE, gufymike  
Rating: **T** (violence, psychological sadism from the author, heavy topics and situations)  
Chapter Summary: Hermione visits Harry after her mother's death; conversations and arguments ultimately lead Hermione to move away from England.  
Chapter WC: 4186 (4847)  
Chapter Completion: 06/23/2009, 03:36:42  
Last Edited: 07/31/2009, 17:47:34  
Posted: July 31st, 2009**  
Disclaimer:** Kojima Mizuiro walks by before stopping at the sight of Keigo crying out rivers of tears, dampening his general vicinity. Stopping at the dry perimeter next to Ichigo, he turned and asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"Heck if I know," Ichigo shrugged. "I just came by and saw Keigo doing an impression of a human sprinkler."

Kojima resisted the urge to make a crude comment, it being more the currently crying teen's forte, and remarked, "He reminds me of that Cho Chang girl from the Harry Potter books."

Keigo suddenly stopped crying, glaring comically at the pretty boy with red-rimmed eyes. "I _like_ Cho Chang, for your information!"

"Why are you crying?" Kojima asked with a smile, unaffected.

"I-I just found out KeiGinya doesn't own Harry Potter or Twilight!"

Ichigo snorted and started walking away. "_Obviously_. She doesn't own Bleach either."

A/N: Okay, just warning you, I wrote this with the expectations that readers would already know something about the two fandoms. Personally, I've only read the first two books of the Twilight series and five of Harry Potter. I'm going to see how long I can write this only using lexicons and wikipedia for references, without opening a book. I'm probably going to end up reading HBP right before I watch the movie (which I don't really feel like watching unlike OotP), but only at the last minute and under protest!

This chapter was annoying to write; I kept on thinking that I'm writing Hermione like Cho... but, once it was done and I went over it, I found it was alright and not overdone like I first thought.

* * *

_The hallowed halls of Hogwarts, within lies a paradise for the lovers of books; the smell of aged paper and leather to the slight tickling of dust, the humbling silence, and the crinkling of a turning page: a library._

_Hogwarts Library was a haven for those who loved knowledge with tens of thousands books lining the shelves of hundreds of bookcases, a collection with some of the rarest titles, making it the most comprehensive gathering within the country. One could just walk down the aisles, fingers trailing the binds of the heaviest tombs to the thinnest treaty, basking in the presence of treasure and jewels for the mind._

_A little first year currently finishing a conversation with a Ravenclaw fourth year would do so in the future for many, many times, but today was not the day, for Hermione Granger was on a self-imposed mission._

_Bushy brown hair, a tiny little thing with buckets of attitude in comparison, the first year Gryffindor ventured into the Library, having found it the first day within Hogwarts, with the intention of getting opinions of the institution from older students: information._

_Bright ocher eyes looked around to see if she could find another person to question, her gaze eventually landing on a Hufflepuff third year reading a book at a table._

_Smiling a little, she tried to get the boy's attention politely, "Excuse me."_

_Cedric Diggory looked up, gray eyes set on a handsome face, wavy bronze-colored hair the usual disarray found in young boys._

_"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind telling me something about Hogwarts? About a class, the castle, anything really!"_

_Gray eyes blinked, staring at the precocious eleven year old before him. "Alright," he began hesitantly, "but, do you mind my asking why you didn't ask an older Gryffindor…?"_

_Hermione straightened slightly in realization. "Oh, dear me, I'm sorry; my name is Hermione Granger and I just wanted different views on the subject."_

_The thirteen year old slowly smiled, the act seeming to bring out the silver in his eyes, reaching over the table to shake her offered hand._

_"Cedric Diggory, hello…"_

* * *

**Once Upon A Hunter's Eve**

by _KeiGinya_

* * *

Chapter One - Remnants

* * *

"Call me if you need anything, alright Princess?"

"Yes, daddy."

Hermione watched the black Phantom drive away, eyes slightly unfocused, before turning and walking up to Number 4, which looked identical to all the other properties on Privet Drive. Her steps were slow, head down-turned to watch her progress.

The fifteen year old rung the doorbell.

"Go get the door, boy," a gruff man's voice was heard within the house.

A minute later, Harry Potter opened the door, eyes widening behind round spectacles at the sight of his best female friend at his front door.

"_Hermione?_" he exclaimed in surprise before abruptly pausing, noticing the slightly dazed look to the girl's eyes. His gaze softened and he opened his arms, "Come here."

The brunette's face screwed up before she let out a harsh sob, burrowing herself into the fourteen year old's embrace, her body shuddering as she cried into Harry's chest.

"There, there," Harry patted her back in an awkward attempt to comfort. "I'm sorry, 'Mione, I'm really sorry about your Mum."

She hiccuped slightly as she tried to regain some of her composure, "Y-you know?"

Harry inhaled through his teeth. "Yeah, I saw it on the News two nights ago…"

Hermione shook slightly at his words.

"Shh… I'm here for y—"

"What's taking you so damn long, boy?"

Green eyes flashed as he looked back into the house before moving the pair of them forward. He closed the front door before guiding Hermione away, "Let's go somewhere else first."

The two walked down the streets in silence, Harry keeping a hand in between her shoulder blades to keep Hermione moving, until they arrived at the park, where upon the boy-hero gestured to sit at the carousel, it being too early for anyone to be out and about quite yet.

"So, why'd you come visit? Not that I'm complaining but I just received a note last night from Ron that was even shorter and vaguer than usual," he ended in a dark note.

She took a deep breath to make sure she would be able to speak before answering, "I'm— Actually, my father dropped me off. I-I know it's abrupt but do you mind my staying the day with you? He's handling… handling the paperwork and f-…uneral arrangements."

"Do you want me to be there for you?" Harry asked immediately.

Hermione shook her head, frazzled hair waving back and forth. "Oh, oh no!" She regained some of her old self. "I would like it but I received a letter that might actually explain Ron's," she said before essentially summarizing the contents of the letter, "I don't know much about what's happening either, Harry, but I suspect I'll find out at some point."

The pair trailed off into silence, each one thinking their own thoughts. Harry about Cedric and what was happening in the Wizarding World regarding Voldemort. Hermione about the days to come.

They spent the rest of the day talking of inconsequential things, avoiding potentially volatile subjects, the conversation somewhat awkward but the simple presence of the other in times of distress enough for an occasional smile from a girl who hadn't since her mother was killed and a boy who hadn't since he was used in a ritual to resurrect Voldemort.

It was nearly eight in the evening when the two best friends were sitting at the front of Number 4, after Hermione received a phone call from her father saying he was now heading to Surrey.

Hermione was leaning her head on Harry's shoulder, which was somewhat uncomfortable considering the boy had grown about a head taller without enough time to fill in. Her eyes stared into the distance before she whispered, breaking the silence, "It's cruel; why did they have to die? Why did I live? Mum…" her breath hitched, "Cedric…"

"I don't know 'Mione. It's just not fair," Harry had a similarly reflecting gaze as he moved his arm to wrap around the older girl's shoulders.

The black Rolls-Royce eventually rolled into a stop in front of the Dursley residence, Hermione standing up and giving one last hug to Harry before heading to the car, whispering a thank you to his ear.

Hermione stared out the window to see Harry watching her drive off, noticing the Dursleys peeking through the window, and wondering how Harry could deal with everything in that environment when it was taking everything she had not to just give up on living herself.

She turned away to the front, her eyes bright with unshed tears clinging to long lashes as she confessed softly, "I miss her, daddy."

There was a moment of silence; Hermione blinked causing the tears to fall and make a single track down a cheek.

"I miss her, too, Princess."

* * *

It was the day after the funeral and the father-daughter pair stood in front of the grave of Rosaline Granger, beloved wife and mother. Hermione wore a simple black dress, her hair pulled back into a ponytail as brown eyes stared at her mother's epitaph. Hugh wore a black shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled up and the first button undone.

The older man pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and placed one on his lips, returning the pack to its place before digging a hand into his front pocket.

"You smoke?"

Hugh turned to look at his daughter as he took out a lighter, reaching a hand up to hold the unlit cigarette. "I quit when your mother became pregnant with you," he replied.

He replaced the cigarette and flicked on the lighter, cupping his hands and lighting the cigarette in a smooth motion. The black-haired man exhaled before moving his free hand and removed the cigarette from his lips.

Her father smiled sadly as he stared at his hand holding the cigarette. "Your mother had told me I always looked 'cool' when I smoked."

"Are you going to take up smoking again?" Hermione asked for a lack of anything else to say.

He took a drag of the cigarette and, suddenly, Hermione could understand a bit of her mother's reasoning as her father looked into the distance, his posture slightly slouched. There was a long moment of silence and the brunette was beginning to think he would not answer before he finally replied.

"No."

Brown eyes looked down before returning to the grave marker – though the grave didn't need to be marked seeing the earth was still freshly turned. She remained silent, letting her father finish the cigarette.

"Can I go to Harry's?" Hermione asked meekly.

Hugh looked sharply at his daughter but did not inquire; "Alright," he said instead.

The drive to Surrey was silent between the two, the thoughts of their potential move on both their minds. The question was whether or not Hermione would continue to attend school in the UK or not.

As it was a Sunday, the Dursleys were most likely at church when they arrived in Little Whinging. Hermione was aware Harry did not go to church, so she intended to try the Dursleys' residence before looking for her friend in the park and some other areas he had mentioned the last time she visited.

After another breakdown – the grave was so _final_ – Hermione sat at Harry's desk chair while the messy-haired wizard sat on his bed, leaning against the wall.

"I'm sorry. I just can't—" the brunette inhaled deeply to prevent herself from going into a hysterical rant. Once she felt a bit calmer, she started again, "It's just been somewhat overwhelming. After the wake, my father brought up the subject of moving. I don't think he can stand living in London anymore; he mentioned something about the States. And when I visited Diagon Alley to buy some books about wizarding society in America, I realized the Ministry is wasting time denying _his_ return instead of taking action!"

"What?" Harry asked sharply.

She waved her hands in frustration as she explained, "They're calling Dumbledore a crackpot and you a liar! That you're disturbed and just doing it for attention while Dumbledore is a fool showing his old age in believing what you say!"

Hermione fisted her hands to the side of her head, loosening her hair and essentially ruining the ponytail. Brown eyes stared into green as the tears started flowing again.

"_What about Cedric?_" Her voice was high and she was obviously beside herself. "How can they explain his _death_? He was murdered! Seventeen, with his life ahead of him, how many things were left undone? Unsaid? He was— He never—", Hermione became incoherent, overcome by grief, and sobbed out one last word before burying her face into her hands, "I…"

"Hermione," Harry trailed off, not knowing what to say that would not cause the girl to become worse.

It was ten minutes later before Harry broke the silence.

"Hermione, you mentioned something about moving to the States?"

The fifteen year old eagerly grasped the topic to distract her from the morose thoughts of how her face was more often than not wet with tears the past month. The past week and a half had been worse, her mother's death making her feel she's lost any ability to keep from sudden crying jags.

"Yes," she nodded, "Father said something about the west coast. I know he wants me to transfer to an American magic school or an equivalent but don't worry, even though my family technically would live in another country, I'll still be able to attend Hogwarts since it's a boarding school and I'm already on the list of students. I'll need to head to the new home in the summer but the rest of the year will be alright; I can't leave you when the Ministry is being so _asinine_."

"Hermione, maybe you should go."

She jerked her head up, brown eyes wide. "What?"

Harry stood up and started pacing with what room the small space gave him. "You have to understand where I'm coming from, 'Mione. Voldemort's back. Everyone would be in danger but you especially; you're a muggle-born, which stands against _their_ beliefs. You'll be targeted above the rest of the students and you're my best friend – they'd probably target you just to spite me," he spat viciously.

He moved in front of her and knelt, grabbing her hands that had been lying on her lap. "Please, 'Mione, transfer to Salem Witches' Institute or something for my peace of mind; I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt or… or like Cedric," he swallowed thickly, green eyes pleading.

"B-but, Harry, you'll _need_ me."

Harry shook his head, "No, the real reason you're staying is because of me – that sounds bigheaded of me but it's the truth, I _know_ you – and _I'm_ telling you that you should get away before things get worse. It's not like it's goodbye forever, either. We can still keep in touch by owl."

Hermione felt she should argue – that owls were liable (not to mention the considerable distance) and she wouldn't just _leave_ him to be safe – but she was suddenly so tired. In actuality, she was not sure she wanted to return to Hogwarts, where everything would no doubt remind her of Cedric, and the image of Harry holding his cold body would haunt her every time she went on the grounds. She was tired of the pain and the tears; sick of agonizing over a lost future, whatever it could have been.

But she was so close – _so close!_ – to just giving up and she was scared, since the only thing keeping her together at the seams was the knowledge that Harry needed her. If she were to go away…

It was apparent that Harry was completely sincere, that he would not hold it against her, is in fact encouraging her, for running away to just forget. And how she wanted to forget. Forget the 'never will's, 'not again's, and 'no more's.

"I will think about it," Hermione said before she could take it back.

The total relief on his face just told her that she really might need to leave Europe, for Harry. The only thing holding her back was the complication of keeping in contact; she wasn't going to _leave_ Harry to stand by himself, so the communication needed to be instant. It would be so much easier if cellular phones worked in magical environments.

"Thank you, Hermione, thank you," Harry bowed his head over their hands.

Hermione said nothing, her mind trying to work every contingency out and figuring out which decision was correct, while a part of her wondered if she'd be able to survive living in America if she really were to leave.

* * *

"Ida, I have to go somewhere," Hermione told the older woman as she made sure she had enough money for the rail.

The gray-haired woman stood up from some last minute packing of items that would be sent into storage, one of the rare times Hermione saw her out of uniform. "Hermione, we have to be at the airport by three and there's still those movers that—"

"Please, Ida, I'll be back in two hours. I just need to see Harry one last time and tell him I'm leaving," the fifteen year old said.

The Grangers' maid pursed her lips. "And how shall you go to Surrey?"

"I'll take the rail."

There was a disapproving look in the woman's eyes before they softened and she returned to the porcelain items she was wrapping. "Well, hurry on, then. I'll have to stay and make sure the movers do their job and not break anything. Really, barely a week to empty the house," muttering almost to herself over Hugh's insistence in moving out of the country as soon as possible.

"Thank you, Ida."

They had started packing the same time Hermione's father had began to put aside her mother's clothing, immediately after the wake, in fact. Phone calls were made and there were discussions over it but Hugh had already made the decision.

Her father had seemed so adamant with his intent so when she had brought up the fact Harry wanted her to transfer, leading to an explanation of how Voldemort was back, the evening immediately after her visit to her friend and Hugh Granger had suddenly stated that he was canceling his flight later that night, Hermione knew she had to go. It was the reality that her father would stay in England if she continued in Hogwarts that cinched the decision for her.

She didn't care about danger to herself. Yet, much like how Harry thought she'd be a casualty due to association with him, her muggle father would be in danger simply because of what he was and who his daughter is.

It might have just been paranoia and she might have been over-thinking things but the simple truth of the matter was that Hermione couldn't live with herself if her father died too. She couldn't take the simple idea of her father gone without a bone-chilling fear – Hermione would truly be alone, then. The brunette had shuddered at the idea she might be the cause of death for the last person she was closest to.

So, with the clarity of the path she had to take, Hermione had done what she had done best: research. She had handled transfer papers, a letter to the school explaining her move, along with preparing for her arrival to America, and solving some problems involved with her relocation.

She had spent a majority of her time on Tuesday and Wednesday in the magical side of London, having rented a room in the Leaky Cauldron for the night. Hermione had been searching for answers on how she could keep in contact with Harry, reading up and discovering all the methods of magical communication before realizing what she wanted did not exist.

Considering Hermione had modified a spell during her second year, she thought it would be possible to attempt to create what she needed, especially since she had a partial understanding of Arithmancy now. The only difficulty was the Trace on underage witches and wizards that kept track of their magic use. Thankfully, she had lived up to being the top student in her year by using logic – an oddly rare trait in the wizarding world – to deduce exactly how might the Trace work and finding the loophole needed.

The fifteen year old had taken advantage of the loophole: performing underage magic in a magic-heavy area would not be detected, the Trace unable to differentiate magic performed by an adult wizard or witch versus a student. It was like hiding a tree within a forest and, as long as Hermione was careful not to be seen, she would not be caught.

Granted, even if she were, the Ministry wouldn't have much been able to do anything about it since she would have left the country by Friday, in any case.

"Harry?" Hermione voiced hesitantly as she arrived at Number 4, spotting legs sticking out of the hydrangea bush, reminded slightly of the Wizard of Oz (though the beat up trainers were definitely not ruby slippers).

The wild mop of dark hair popped out. "Hermione?" Harry blinked owlishly.

The girl watched the young wizard step out of the slightly wilting shrubbery in silence. Harry wiped his jeans almost self-consciously, scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly.

"So, um, have you decided whether to go or not?"

Hermione looked down to the ground before meeting those green eyes again. "Yes, actually, I'm leaving today," she continued on, "I just wanted to tell you and give you your birthday present early since I'm going to be in America on the thirty-first."

She dug into her purse before bringing out a box she did not bother to wrap. Pushing it toward Harry, who automatically took it, his green eyes widening at the 'Rolex' label stamped on the box. Almost hesitantly, he opened the box and moved the paper, to open the green leather case, revealing a slightly modified Rolex Submariner.

"Hermione, I can't accept this," Harry began.

"No, Harry, I want to stay in contact with you and owls would take too long if you needed me for something. I've noticed that your old watch stopped working ever since the second task, so I just decided to get you a new watch that would also be the method we can communicate with each other," she pulled a silver chain on her neck to reveal a large cross pendant, "Think of it like cellular phones – or a more accurate description would be akin to walkie-talkies. You'll just need to set the hour and minute hands to twelve and flip open the bevel. It would then set it off on my end telling me you're 'calling' so I'll be able to answer."

Hermione showed the fourteen year old how to operate the communication feature before reaching for her cross and somehow managed to pull the crossing bars into an upside down 'L' before bending it into a circle, Harry watching in amazement as the 'windows' showed the other.

The brunette dropped the pendant and looked at Harry, "See?"

The miniature Hermione standing on the watch face echoed simultaneously. When the real girl moved toward Harry, the boy was fascinated to see a mini-Harry enter the projection. Hermione reached over and flipped the bevel back into place, there by ending the 'call'.

As she reshaped her pendant back to a cross, she continued, "If it's an emergency and you don't have time to call in the traditional way or if you need to be discrete, press down on the watch-face and think about me like you would think of a happy memory for a Patronus."

Hermione hugged her trouble-magnet friend one last time for a long while.

"I have to go; our plane leaves at six-fifteen and I have to take the rail back to London. I'll miss you, Harry."

"Me too. Love you, 'Mione."

When they parted, Hermione turned resolutely around and ran to the station. She was not going to break down into tears and say how much she doesn't want to leave Harry alone to deal with the trouble ahead; it'd only make the boy uncomfortable.

Brown eyes eventually looked up, having traveled by autopilot through the streets after leaving the station, when Ida addressed her.

"There you are, dear. Now, just wait a few minutes while the movers finish up, then we'll head to the airport. I've already called a cab for us."

* * *

End Notes:Thank you to miyagiCE since "Truth be told, [he's] doing it cause [I] asked, not because [he's] interested". He never read either series but was still nice enough to check my grammar. Also, thanks to gufy, who's my soundboard for this and always made time to chat with me about Hunter's Eve. And, last but not least, _catharticdeficit_ – I luffers you for giving me that official sounding Disclaimer in the Prologue and for thinking up a summary for this story.

Grave scene was blatantly taken from _Bleach_, the series.


	3. TopsyTurvy

Title: Once Upon A Hunter's Eve  
Author: KeiGinya  
Beta(s): miyagiCE, gufymike  
Rating: **T** (violence, psychological sadism from the author, heavy topics and situations)  
Chapter Summary: Hermione arrives in Seattle, with a rather amiable welcoming party. She is exposed to a new world almost the total opposite of what she knew. There is a sign of something wrong, though, when she doesn't even notice her lack of enthusiasm over learning.  
Chapter WC: 6925 (11772)  
Chapter Completion: 08/16/2009, 23:44:48  
Last Edited: 08/26/2009, 11:38:09  
Posted: August 26th, 2009**  
Disclaimer:** "Mutant house-elves. Mutant house-elves! Gawd, really?" the unnamed sales girl growled as she did a good impression of whack-a-mole and concussed the previously cackling creature.

Brushing herself off, the female returned the blackjack to her pocket, bringing to question why exactly she would carry such a weapon around so casually.

"Shut it already," the sales girl groaned as she slapped her forehead.

Dragging the hand down her face, she took a deep, bracing breath.

"KeiGinya, the evil—" a crack of thunder sounded, "doesn't own... oh, come on! I can't even cuss? You force me to deal with consecutive low-tech customers and—" the sky turned ominously stormy, as if rain was impending. "Geez, I get it. She doesn't own... well KeiGinya doesn't own a lot. She created Ida, partially had a hand in Hugh but that's debatable. He–...ck, she's not even sure if she owns my creation! I, for one, hope not and [BEEP], I'm done. I'm done!"

The still unnamed sales girl rushed off, hoping to return to her car without getting more wet from the rain. Unfortunately, that left the unconscious gremlin in the open. During a rainstorm.

* * *

_It was about a week after Halloween that Cedric finally managed to catch Hermione Granger in the library._

_Being in the same year as the Weasley twins, Cedric had heard in the past months about most of the first year Gryffindors – their little brother, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione, to name the ones that came up most._

_He had learned of how the bushy-haired girl had somewhat isolated herself with her peers due to her bossy, know-it-all attitude. Maybe the older years thought differently, since the twins sounded somewhat affectionate when they discussed her, and Cedric himself thought the girl had character._

_There was nothing wrong with being smart and confident, and the somewhat mother hen nagging was cute in such a tiny little thing._

_Ron Weasley had been one of Hermione's biggest detractors, and it was found out through the Hogwarts' grape-vine that the redheaded eleven year old had driven the girl to tears on Halloween Eve._

_So it was a great surprise to find Hermione suddenly friends with Ron and Harry Potter the next day, the duo becoming a trio, when Cedric thought of finally asking the twins to tell their little brother to lay off._

_"Hermione!"_

_The twelve year old walking past with an armful of schoolbooks turned and brightened slightly. "Cedric," she greeted softly; it was a library, after all. "How are you?"_

_"I could ask the same to you," he said with an easy smile as he gestured at the seat across from him, waiting for the Gryffindor girl to settle down somewhat before continuing, "Halloween was rather hectic – the Headmaster had told us to head back into our dorms but the Hufflepuffs' commons are fairly close to the dungeons, so half of us went to our dorms while the others wandered to the upper floors of the castle; a big mess overall._

_"You weren't at the feast," he suddenly commented. Back then, he had noticed since it was already heard by the rest of the student body that one of the Gryffindor boys had upset a female classmate enough for her to skip class. The only one missing had been Hermione Granger._

_Hermione blinked and smiled hesitantly, "Yes, well…"_

_"Rumor has it a bunch of first years took down the troll," he remarked._

_The brunette shifted slightly._

_Cedric suddenly spoke in a lighter tone, "So I see that you've made friends with Harry Potter and the youngest Weasley."_

_Hermione smiled now that the topic was away from rather sensitive matters. "Yes. Harry and Ron, though they have atrocious studying habits."_

_"Are you sure about being friends with them? Ron Weasley, at least? I heard you were crying because of a rude comment he had made earlier on Halloween day."_

_There was a look to the girl that suggested she knew she was caught before she looked down. A moment passed when she wrung her hands before Hermione looked up again, her gaze resolute. "They saved me from the troll."_

_It was a slightly different story than Cedric received from hearing the rumors of what had happened._

_"After Ron Weasley drove you off to cry in the girls' loo in the first place."_

_Now Hermione just looked stubborn, her chin jutting up. "I am sure."_

_Seconds ticked by before Cedric sat back and ruffled his hair, a rueful expression on his face. "I'm just worried for you, Hermione, you must understand."_

_"I'm aware," she then gave him a small smile, "Thank you for the thought."_

* * *

**Once Upon A Hunter's Eve**

by _KeiGinya_

* * *

Chapter Two - Topsy-Turvy

* * *

They arrived at Seattle eight pm local time, expecting at least an hour wait in line before being able to actually check-in to their hotel. Instead, the American Department of Magic had sent a representative to seemingly greet Hermione.

It was rather obvious really – other than the clearly labeled uniform with the insignia of the Transportation Department one of the men wore, there was a large sign with her name on it being held up by the man in muggle clothing.

Grabbing Ida when she realized there was a vague suggestion on the sign that prevented non-magical folk from really taking note of it, Hermione walked up to the two men.

"Oh, hah, you must be Miss Hermione Granger!" the brown-haired man said with a grin, "Welcome to the United States, I'm Flynn Carsen, sent by the Department of Magic to greet and help you get settled down in the country. Now, there's a car waiting outside for us to drive you to the hotel while I give you a summary of what life would be like on this side of the pond."

"But what about customs?" Hermione had to ask since the energetic man was already stepping away, expecting them to follow.

Flynn paused. "Ah, right. We'll just do that real quick, then? And retrieve their luggage while we're at it?", he turned to the uniformed man, who had looked annoyed when Flynn made to leave.

The man turned around to whisper to another before looking back, Hermione realizing whose job pertained to magical customs. Roughly five minutes later, with Hermione noticing she had somehow gained American citizenship during signing of forms, Hermione and Ida were in a car for a short drive to the Fairmont Olympic Hotel to check-in.

As they arrived at the hotel lobby, after a short discussion, Ida went ahead to the room, seeing as she had a four hour drive to Forks ahead of her, leaving Hermione to have dinner with Flynn at the piano bar within the hotel to talk.

"I didn't think it would be so easy to gain citizenship, Mister Carsen," Hermione used as a conversation starter as she perused the menu.

"Call me Flynn," the man asked. "And it makes things easier if you're a citizen compared to an extra two feet of paperwork if you only had a student visa to work with. Of course, you're a teenager with a clean record other than a detention in your first year and rather bad press during your fourth so it's a lot quicker than if you were an adult or have a criminal record."

Hermione closed her eyes at the mention of that despicable Rita, which she had sent to Luna before she left, and the fact her permanent record was marred by that debacle over Norbert. She _knew_ a single detention would be more noticeable than several.

Flynn seemed to have misjudged her reaction and tried to reassure the girl. "Don't worry, Americans really don't care about the affairs of the British Ministry of Magic. It's the fact that the American wizarding society is closer to the non-magical society and we follow muggle law – with some allowances and sometimes certain amendments, of course – while the British magic society is still stuck in the Regency period, I guess. Europeans value tradition and history while the Americas are an odd mish-mash of different practices that creates a melting pot of colorful culture but a distinct lack of dogma.

"Granted, while we don't care about blood or social status or even species too much, there's still slight tension between certain magical sects since the whole of magical society was always part of the non-magical population. Voodoo practitioners are still distrustful of people who practice wizarding magic, though it is getting better."

They stopped for a moment when a waiter appeared to take their orders, before Flynn snapped his fingers and started fumbling for something in his pocket.

"Talking about this reminded me that I forgot to clear that Trace they put on you in the UK to keep track of underage wizards. Here we go! We don't have laws against magic use for minors; you just need to be registered in an educational institution and be discreet when using magic amongst Normals."

Hermione blinked as he lifted the Trace off her before busying himself with pulling out papers from a briefcase. "Why is that, Mister Flynn?"

"Well, we're pretty spread out and we don't really have magic-only communities here, other than some shopping centers in the biggest cities. The wizarding population in America is really integrated with the Normals, Miss Granger, and there is also the fact that other magics are practiced in the country so a thing like the Trace in Britain wouldn't work over here."

He placed a form in front of her.

"When you settle down a bit, you'll understand a bit more. This is a form for applying for an Apparition license where you can get one once you turn sixteen and take the test. You'll see that traveling is a big part of why certain laws are so lax; we only use brooms for sports and a lot of the housing in America lacks fireplaces. There are portkeys – though we've modified the traditional spell and changed it enough we call them by a different name – that are locked onto the shopping centers I've mentioned before but we mostly use cars if we can't apparate."

Hermione looked at the form before slowly filling it in as she continued to take in the new information given to her.

"Then there is the essential self-defense, since we rather have an eclectic mix of non-human races that live here along with some rather dangerous native creatures in certain areas," Flynn rubbed his nose, "We then have a rather sizable vampire and werewolf population. While they're pretty tame, what with the blood banks and Wolfsbane potion in the market, it's usually best to be prepared if a vampire falls into blood-lust or a werewolf gets hairy and rabid."

Flynn took the completed form before handing her another.

"But what truly plagues the wizards are gremlins," he grimaced, "They look like mutant house-elves and can only be found in the Americas and East Asia, where technomancy is prolific. They do extraordinary damage to anything mechanical but are not choosy and can just wreak havoc in a house."

"Technomancy? I've read about it but the book was very vague on exactly what that entailed," Hermione commented.

Flynn smiled as his gaze returned to the fifteen year old. "That's right, you're European. While the advances in spells and potions are great because of tradition, since we lack it, so to say, we have technomancy to make up for it.

"There's a law in Britain making it illegal to enchant and use muggle 'artifacts'. Actually I think I remember about two years ago, how the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in the Ministry of Magic was fined for enchanting his car to fly, and how some of the techies were having a riot over the loophole in the law in which the man himself wrote."

Hermione didn't know what to think about how Harry and Rons' antics were known even overseas.

"Anyway, it's not illegal over here to tinker with technology or machines – it's in fact a major magical form like Transfiguration and Charms. We're very technologically inclined and take advantage of it, seeing that a lot of wizard trainees take classes online since we only have around fifteen institutions NEWT-level and below. There are certain laws restricting how much enhancement we can do on certain items, of course. We can't do anything too obvious or flashy, which is just common sense, and vehicles have to adhere to the law since we _are_ citizens of the United States and therefore fall under their jurisdiction."

Hermione took a sip of her glass of water as the man checked over the form. "Are there also OWLs and NEWTs in America?"

"Right. Yes, those tests are universal which reminds me I have to test your level of skill. I think tomorrow would be better considering your long flight. I'll have to test your wandwork and then there are the written exams to evaluate your level of knowledge on the subject; typical assessment tests. Then we'll have to visit a shopping center— oh, I almost forgot. Where are you going to live?"

"Forks, Washington," Hermione answered primly as she observed Flynn pull out more forms.

"Okay, Washington…" Flynn muttered as he started filling in a document. "This is for your citizenship, by the way, for a State ID. You'll need to pass the normal exams for a driver's permit."

There was a few minutes of silence while Hermione took a few bites of food as she waited politely for the man to finish.

"Forks, huh … you're near a Native American Reservation."

Hermione noticed the odd tone in his voice and arched a brow. "Is that bad?" she asked somewhat coolly.

"No no, just you'll be the only wizardess in the area with Olympic National Park between you and civilization. Amerindians are unique because as a whole society, they are magically aware no matter if they're able to utilize it or not. And, they have the worst relations with us; it's a don't ask, don't tell policy that has been established ever since wizards realized that we were better off ignoring each other. Their magic is derived from nature while we take a more scientific approach to things, so it's not a matter of disliking each other that we avoid them but the simple fact our views are different. I recommend you not use magic within the vicinity of anyone in the Quileute tribe for your own safety, even though you would technically not be breaking the secrecy law because they're considered a magical race."

"Magical _race_?"

"Even the ones unable to perform magic are equivalent of squibs: magic within them," Flynn clarified. "I'm not sure about the Quileutes but most Native Americans deal with the ability to change into an animal or enhanced physical abilities. I remember historically that they used to own slaves, though, so they're most likely not one of the more peaceful tribes."

He changed the subject. "There's a DoM headquarters in San Diego, which also happens to have the nearest portal to the west coast's main shopping district in Sacramento, so we'll be heading there since you need to file some paperwork. I'll also need to get you one of those kludges for Dyern Alley," he checked his watch, "I'll be at the lobby at… is nine in the morning okay for you?"

"Yes, it is."

"Excellent, I have to file these before the offices close, so I'll see you tomorrow? I'll take the check, please."

Hermione stood up and watched Flynn leave in a rush, wondering what she had exactly gotten herself into here in America as she slowly made her way into the hotel room.

The brunette was quiet when she got ready for bed so as to not wake Ida up. When she fell asleep, her dreams were of England and Hogwarts.

* * *

"—yes, the young miss is still present," Ida said, catching Hermione's attention.

Hermione raised her hand to obtain the handset of the hotel room's telephone from the gray-haired woman.

"Daddy?" she spoke into the receiver, sitting down.

"Princess, call the concierge for the use of the hotel's town car if you are to go into the city," the man stated. "Do you have the bank card and the manila folder I left in the care of the hotel for you?"

"Yes, Ida gave it to me earlier this morning," Hermione replied.

"There's a two-thousand dollar spending limit on the card for whatever you'll need to buy. I want you to choose and buy a mobile phone at the first opportunity with it, alright? If you need more, for some reason, call me. We will discuss your allowance once you are here at the house. Ida will be leaving now to come help me with the furnishings and décor."

"I understand."

"Be safe, Princess. I love you."

"Love you, too, daddy."

There was a click of the other line disconnecting before Hermione put the receiver back down on its cradle.

Ida ran a hand over her hair to make sure there were no flyaways from the prim bun. "Remember to eat regularly," the housekeeper stated before leaving Hermione alone with a breakfast that had been brought in by room service.

Checking the time, Hermione made sure she had the room's keycard, funds, papers, and her wand on her person before nibbling a slice of toast mechanically. At fifteen to nine, Hermione left the hotel room, arriving to meet Flynn on the dot.

"Right on time!" Flynn smiled while closing a folder he had been studying. "We'll head to San Diego using side-along apparition, considering you still don't have your license yet, then get the paperwork over and done with before anything else. Your state ID would take a day or two process to create the SLAPs."

"Slaps?" Hermione inquired with slight confusion.

"S-L-A-P: Smart, Long-lasting, Authenticated Portkeys. They're the closest things to true artificial intelligence that's commonplace and legal to produce after the anti-AI laws of 1929," Flynn winced before stopping. "This should be a good place to apparate."

Her curiosity was piqued but Hermione did not feel a real urge to inquire along this line of history and let the intrigue pass. She'd probably be able to look it up in a book later.

Having never been side-apparated before, Hermione was belatedly glad she didn't eat all that much before since the sensations of the traveling method was akin to having a strong force compress against her entire body and then being squeezed through a straw-sized tunnel. The end was the most disorientating, where it felt like an explosive re-expanding that left the girl temporarily lightheaded (as if recovering from a momentary headache in the snap of the fingers).

Blinking, slightly bewildered, the fifteen year old was saved from an embarrassing fall with Flynn having predicted her reaction and was bracing Hermione; the arm she held now behind her as his other hand gripped a shoulder.

"Alright there? Never apparated before, I take it?"

Hermione shook her head slightly as her eyes wondered around the lobby they had arrived at, absentmindedly replying, "No, I'm a muggle-born."

She missed the expression on his face but felt the slight flinch because of their temporary proximity, causing the brunette to return her attention to the man again.

"Did I say something..." her expression then steeled over and she backed up a step before continuing. Her voice was prim as she spoke with a careful, unreadable tone, "I hope you are not one who believes in pureblood supremacy, Mister Carsen."

His eyes widened at the accusation and he waved his hands slightly. "No! No," regaining his calm, he explained. "In fact, it's the total opposite. Anywhere outside Europe does not believe in the dispute over 'blood purity', especially since it was an American wizard who discovered that the ability to use wizarding magic was a genetic trait.

"In 1963, the magical community was set ablaze when a geneticist produced concrete results that magic ability was acquired. It disproved centuries of theories and explanations about how a wizard can be born to non-magical parents. The conclusions meant that all wizards had a wizarding ancestor, therefore meaning what you call 'muggle-borns' never existed.

"So, Miss Granger, you have nothing to worry about blood prejudice here in the United States. A majority of us have at least one Normal in our immediate family tree, especially considering what we know of inbreeding depression. But, I should warn you, the term 'muggle' is considered somewhat derogatory here; we call non-magical individuals 'Normals'. Otherwise, the term 'squib' is still used – considering any other terms are too much of a mouthful to use regularly – for individuals who do not have enough innate magic to use a wand.

"I myself am half, though I didn't know until I was in my thirties, my mom being non-magical and my late father being a wizard," Flynn finished with a slight grimace over how long it took to realize his family's magical status.

Hermione, for her part, did not know how to feel over this bombshell.

"Why haven't I read about this back in the UK?" the fifteen year old having finally settled on disgruntled dismay.

Flynn looked at the teenager as if contemplating his words, finally settling on, "Well, I've traveled through Europe numerous times and came to find the wizarding society over there does not place a lot of importance over the sciences or technology." He then changed the subject, "Speaking of this, do you want to have your family tree traced back to see the magical or semi-magical ancestor you descended from? The Department of Magic has a policy set up that anyone from two Normal parents may have their hereditary mapped out to find their magical ancestor – the technology is one of the best considering the United States is already a melting pot of people from all over the world."

The brunette worried her bottom lip. "...no, maybe sometime in the future, but I want to do this on my own merits."

The man just nodded before the two walked toward the front desk. After a five minute screening process which Hermione didn't bat an eye at as this _was_ a governmental building and she wasn't that out of touch with the non-magical world to have not known about the September 11th attacks two years ago (Hermione had been prepared considering she was entering the country – which was a bit more difficult than before 2001), the teen clipped her visitor's pass onto a belt loop.

The paperwork took half an hour to complete, mostly since Hermione wanted to make sure she filled in everything correctly as almost everything was taken care of by the papers her father had left her (Hermione's medical records only taking two minutes to finish), and that it took roughly ten minutes for the clerk to input the information into the computer database before filing the forms and attachments.

Even though Flynn had mentioned it yesterday, the fifteen year old was still surprised at the sight of computers at every desk when she mentally compared the building to its British equivalent she had to visit to do the opposite of what she was here doing now.

When they entered the Education Department of the building, Flynn Carsen was greeted like a celebrity by the head of the department until the man ushered Hermione into an empty testing room.

Noticing her stare, the man shifted awkwardly and coughed. "Sorry about that."

"...you're not from the Education Department?" Hermione decided to ask, her brows wrinkled. That _was_ what she inferred from the fawning, which was quite odd considering Flynn seemed qualified to test her, though he _might_ be from another section of the government.

"Um, no. I'm a member of a group that— I'm a Librarian," he said somewhat embarrassed. "I was at the main DoM headquarters in DC and the only qualified person left to greet you when you arrived."

Flynn then straightened the folder he had been reading in the hotel lobby with exaggerated movements.

He cleared his throat, "Well, I have to ask before we begin: which method do you want to continue your magical education with? And are you planning on pursuing a regular education?"

Hermione had thought it over in the morning. She was half-decided already as her choice would probably let her be free to study other subjects while also remaining close to her father, along with how going to another magical school would only remind her that she wasn't there at Hogwarts anymore.

"You had mentioned online classes yesterday; how exactly does that work?"

"An online education would let you stay at home and learn at your own pace. Depending on the subjects, there will be lectures and demonstrations, and most exams and quizzes are timed. It's a very popular method and the standards are just as high – or even higher than – as regular magic schools. It'll also allow you to go to regular school, which I recommend considering how small Forks, Washington is, if only to dissuade questions."

"I-I'm unsure about attending normal high school," for the same reasons she had reservations over attending Salem's Witches Institute, "but learning online sounds interesting."

"Well, you can still pursue a regular education in the same way, as an amount of students choose this method since circumstances require them to travel a lot and this is their _only_ way to get an education. A lot of the wizarding population in America are Professors in Universities who do lectures on the side for E-School, which is the mainstream way of learning here. Do you want to be registered for online classes?"

"I think I would like that, Mister Flynn."

"And regular classes?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"Alright, hold on a minute," Flynn asked as he left the room for a bit, returning with a thick stack of papers.

"I should mention that Ancient Runes is a University-level class along with the type of Arithmancy that is taught in Europe. Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology are subtopics of magical Biology called Magizoology and Botany. Foreign language classes are also required; are you fluent in anything other than English?"

"Welsh, French, and Latin. I can read Egyptian, Greek, and Sanskrit. I can speak Romanian but not write it and I know a little Hebrew and Arabic," Hermione answered promptly.

Flynn's smile was wide as he commented, "A good base for classical studies." He then shook his head, "Students are required to learn Latin and at least two foreign languages. I would recommend learning Japanese and Korean, as you'll probably learn Chinese and Russian at some point, judging by what languages you already know. Most of us are at least bilingual considering there's frequent traveling, along with business between the countries. You'll be put in a study group of sorts in E-School, of which at least one student would probably be Japanese."

"Study group?"

"As learning online does not really promote socializing, a study group is like a homeroom class in regular school of students the same age group so we can still keep in touch with others like us. That's the only bad thing about e-learning, as a wizarding society we need to speak and interact with other wizards to keep our identity, being a subculture ourselves."

"I think I understand," Hermione remarked, thinking about how awkward coming home for the holidays sometimes was after Hogwarts.

"'Defence Against the Dark Arts' is simply called 'Defense'," Flynn continued. "History of Magic is separated into different units, of which I'll need to know what you covered before I can give you any assessment tests. Astronomy you won't need to take a test on considering those records are pretty clear-cut."

He shuffled the pile of packets until he found what he was looking for and stood up. Hermione following his example when he gestured for her to do the same.

"First, we'll have a practical assessment on Charms," he paused. "Oh, wait, how computer literate are you?"

The brunette blinked, needing a moment before she could answer the abrupt question. "The basics, I would assume."

"So you don't know any programming languages?"

"No," Hermione shook her head in a negative.

"Alright. Then we'll have a break half way through for lunch before finishing up and then take a written test for Potions." Flynn dug into his pocket and pulled out a calibration weight used with scales, "Levitate and then summon the weight to you."

At one o'clock, the pair had lunch break, before finishing up the Charms assessment. Hermione was slightly fatigued by the end while Flynn wasn't bothering to hide his wide smile, the man doing a good, slightly subdued version of Professor Flitwick's enthusiasm over exemplary wandwork. Hermione took that as a positive sign, especially considering she didn't know some of the spells he had asked for and was therefore unable to perform them.

When their take-out (graciously gotten by one of the department's employees) of chilaquiles and enchiladas were pretty much finished, Flynn took out a stapled packet from the stack of papers as Hermione pushed around soggy pieces of totopos in the remaining green sauce.

"We have to leave before five since the office closes at that time but the Potions assessment shouldn't take more than an hour or two, considering the American requirements are less comprehensive than the British curriculum, leaving us enough time to drop by the mall above Dyern Alley – and while we're there, we can swing by to the Alley itself and retrieve an echurnikey so you'd be able to go shopping anytime for magical supplies and items."

Hermione cut in, at that point, just managing to keep her jaw from dropping at the gibberish word Flynn said so casually, "A what?"

He looked at the brunette for a moment before lighting up in sudden understanding. "Oh, an echurnikey. It's a melding of the words: eternal/eternity and portkey. Originally, it was coined 'eternikey' but a comic strip in Wizard Weekly popularized the current term – as the typical feeling of a portkey is rather uncomfortable and sometimes stomach churning – that the present vernacular label for the baubles are usually recognized as being called 'echurnikeys'. They're also called a bunch of other names, most unsavory, including a kludge, which is engineering and computing lingo for a crude solution for a problem that nonetheless works, no matter how messy it was cobbled together.

"Now," Flynn straightened the stack of packets, "let's finish up the Charms section before moving onto Potions, shall we?"

After failing the Patronus Charm, in which she had never attempted before, Hermione was asked to perform any charms she might know that Flynn had not already asked for, where the fifteen year old _did_ have a couple along with the Four-Point spell she had created for Harry's use in the Third Task.

"Splendid!" Flynn exclaimed. "Now, let's move onto Potions. I will name the potions by order on the curriculum – it's a subject part of the Healing class, unlike Potions in Hogwarts; I've heard that Potions and Divinition are the two remaining witchcraft classes still taught in the United Kingdom. It's rather fascinating seeing that Potions is a universal study originating from witchcraft but some of the formula..." Flynn looked at Hermione and trailed off, suddenly realizing he was going on a tangent.

Clearing his throat, he went back to the assessment, "Now, can you tell me the most difficult Potion you ever made in your magical career?"

Hermione bit her lower lip in thought; she had created numerous Potions, especially considering it was the only subject she could practice freely during the summer months. But, there was one potion that stood out mostly because of the mortifying results of imbibing it.

"The Polyjuice Potion when I was thirteen."

Flynn's eyes widened slightly before he rubbed his chin in thought, "That explains your stint in the school infirmary as a cat-girl."

The brunette's cheeks flushed and defensively replied, "I was not aware the girl owned a cat whose fur looked exactly the same as her hair." before abruptly stopping, realizing she might have reflexively confessed to doing something less than rule-abiding.

The man seemed to have not noticed, nodding at her words, "Well, that's no fault of your potions skills, then. Anyway, I'll name a potion and you'll recite how to make the potion along with citing the amount of each ingredient as it's introduced."

After an hour and a half, of which Hermione was somewhat confident she did well on the Potions assessment, the girl was sipping on a bottle of water as the pair walked toward the lobby of the building again.

"They really weren't kidding about you," Flynn suddenly remarked.

"Excuse me?" Hermione voiced in curiosity, lowering the mouth of the bottle from her lips.

"You're the top student in Europe for your age in everything except Defense, but it still makes you the top student in your year," Flynn confided with a smile, "Most top student files are flagged in the Education Departments, so I consider myself lucky to be the welcoming committee for you, Miss Granger." He shook his head slightly flabbergasted, "Really, the Protean Charm at your age! With that level of mastery, too!"

Hermione flushed slightly from the praise of a man that slightly reminded her of Professor Lupin.

"And creating your own spell shows a deep understanding of Arithmancy and its applications," Flynn finished.

The two slowed in front of a row of black doors of which employees and regular wizards were walking in and out. Upon a closer glance at one door, the fifteen year old noticed that each time it opened and closed, the other side showed at least three different locations.

"These are Jenkins' Dial Doors and the Americans' answers to Floo travel. It's a lot safer than traveling by fireplace, at least, as far as I know. You see the different colored dials at the door knob? Each one represents a different location. There's a bit of a system to it, considering each door can only be programmed to open to an average of four locations; there's a pamphlet but you can never find one when it's convenient. Like a subway map in New York City," he muttered at the end.

He ushered the brunette to the nearest door. "This door and the next two always have destinations to Dyern Alley and the Mall. As you need to buy a cellular phone, we'll head to the Mall, since all of the tech stores are above ground."

The dial rotated till the arrow pointed at blue with a click. Opening the door, Flynn gestured for Hermione to go first, following right after. Turning around, Hermione saw the door they walked through had an Employees Only sign.

"All the stores in this mall have wizarding employees, managers, and sometimes owners. While not all of them have a magical section, it's a fair give-in that all the tech stores do," Flynn explained as they walked with a cellphone store in mind. "Now, what type of phone do you want?"

Hermione frowned as she entered the store, which was clean and bright, along with having a notice-me-not spell over a large section of displayed phones. The only customer other than Hermione and her guide that was unaffected looked like a cliché vampire with long, dark-hair and all-black outfit.

"Um, what exactly do you mean, Mister Flynn?"

"MP3, camera, that type of thing," the man elaborated as they walked toward the magical section.

Stopping, the brunette opened her mouth before abruptly stopping as one of the employees came up to help them. After Flynn clarified it was Hermione that was hoping to make a purchase, the older girl bombarded the brunette with a bunch of useless and superfluous features of the most popular phone for young female wizards out in the market right now.

Finally, Hermione cut in, "I just want a phone to make calls and maybe have an alarm clock."

There was suddenly an awkward silence before the employee mumbled about hard-to-please customers.

Flynn coughed, "Yes, well, Miss Granger, as long as we're buying a cellular for your use, you might want one that can double as an e-book reader – I personally enjoy having translation dictionaries right on hand. While we're at it, I think you should consider the area you'll be moving to and have it water-proof and drop-proof (it's surprising the amount of models that aren't). Camera, Video and Voice Recording abilities are also very useful for studying and experiments. E-mail and Instant Messaging would also help for you to keep in contact with other students outside of the computer. Do you have any hobbies?"

"I like going outdoors," Hermione obligingly answered.

"I mentioned a camera, right? Well, GPS capabilities would help, along with the model being satellite compatible. I would suggest a WizTech model with those minimum features; you could work around it with the wizarding interface if you need more, anyway."

Flynn asked to see models with the features he had mentioned. It was obviously an 'adult' phone, considering the trio moved in front of a row of phones a lot less bright and colorful than the one the older girl had been waving around a minute before.

"Would you prefer a flip phone, a candy bar, or a slider?"

"A flip phone," Hermione replied.

"Alright, this model is a market standard with the added feature of doubling as an MP3 player. This model," she picked up another phone, "Is one of the best camera phones out right now. You can move the screen left and right and..." the employee turned the screen 180 degrees before closing it again, now with the screen-side up, "you can do this which makes taking photos exactly like using a digital camera. You can also switch from static to touch screen and the stylus is stored here and you can just pull it out to use it," the older girl finished the demonstration by pulling a stylus out where antennas were usually located in older models before returning it back within the phone.

"The camera is 5.1 megapixels, 3x optical zoom (more with the stylus), image stabilization, auto-focus, LED flash, and has fifteen different shooting modes. The LCD screen is 2.3 inches large. Messaging has two different input methods, classic keyboard and via the touch-screen mode either with the stylus or your fingers. Water-proof. Drop-proof. Video and Voice Recording. GPS capabilities and Satellite compatible – though that's not covered in the contract. It is 250 dollars."

Eventually Hermione decided to buy the second model after realizing the price differences were negligible.

"I'll take one, too. In red and black," a low, smooth voice sounded from behind the brunette, causing her to jump in place and spin around.

Hermione saw the face of the other magical customer and was greatly tempted to label him a vampire as she took in his handsome face and red eyes, but he didn't veer away from her even though her cross necklace was on top of her shirt in plain view.

"Do you mind if I pay before you?" the dark-haired man inquired. "I'm running a bit late."

"That's fine, Mister..."

"Valentine," he supplied as his eyes looked at her cross pendant, revealing long lashes on the way. "Nice necklace."

"Thank you, Mister Valentine," Hermione replied unsurely.

After paying for her purchase, Flynn guided her to the indoor parking lot before they went through another Employees Only door and they went down a flight of stairs, passed another door, going deeper underground by a spiral staircase.

They saw the other magical customer before the doors to Dyern Alley, using his newly bought phone to tell a 'Cid' that he was coming.

After the door was a small alleyway before it opened up to Cathemeral Square.

"Do you need anything? Refilling potions supplies...?"

"No, I did my shopping before I left London."

"Alright, we'll just buy you an echurnikey and then I'll side-apparate you back to your hotel. Just sit here."

Hermione sat at the fountain in the square while Flynn started pulling packets from the folder he kept with him. After going over the contents, he returned it to the manila and handed it over to Hermione.

"Monday, we'll have a small Potions practical to make sure you know your way around the equipment along with the added benefit a Pepper-Up Potion will be after the Transfiguration assessment. Within the folder I gave you is also math packets. I want you to study them and we'll have a test tomorrow to see how you'll do, eh? So, to sum it up, Monday will be the Potions practical, Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Math. Tuesday would cover Defense and History along with anything else we might have missed.

"I'll go get that echurnikey now," Flynn finished, leaving Hermione to stare at the folder containing information she needed to study today and tomorrow before Monday came.

Taking out the first sheet, Hermione spent a few minutes reading before Flynn returned and the brunette found out that the echurnikey was in fact a souvenir; the one Flynn got for her being a miniature of the fountain's statue and apparently the least gaudy one available.

They soon apparated back to the hotel, and Flynn departed with a comment of seeing her Monday, leaving Hermione to contemplate the years of Math waiting to be gone over in such a short time.

She didn't get much sleep, the next two days.

* * *

End Notes: Sorry 'bout the wait but, as you can see, this chapter has a lot of exposition and, overall, was a pain to write. But. All the above was necessary in order to set up the world in which Hermione would be residing for the greater part of the next two years (major hint). Dyern Alley was a recycled idea from myself. I'll probably make up a list of all the camoes/crossovers later. Thank you for enjoying this piece of writing and sorry for the wait but Edward's not gonna appear till the fourth chapter.

Love to hear from you, later.


	4. Shade Adrift

Title: Once Upon A Hunter's Eve  
Author: KeiGinya  
Beta(s): miyagiCE, gufymike  
Rating: **T** (violence, psychological sadism from the author, heavy topics and situations)  
Chapter Summary: Hermione is finally in Forks. Having holed herself up in her room, Ida and Hugh both become worried over how she is but a specter of herself. What is one to do when a person does not realize they have a problem in the first place? Fortunately, she has people who care for her...  
Chapter WC: 4626 (16398)  
Chapter Completion: 09/18/2009, 17:36:30  
Last Edited: 09/19/2009, 04:47:55  
Posted: September 19th, 2009**  
Disclaimer: **Anita King looked up from her perch, glancing as Hermione drifted past the stairs, before turning to stare at the 'fourth wall', which in this case was a pocket of air eighty degrees up from her eye-level at her ten. "I can't believe I'm working in a bookstore. Oh, and I'm only doing this because Mi-nee is a Harry Potter fanatic and Ma-nee is who knows where," she cleared her throat, "Most of the characters in Once Upon A Hunter's Eve are the intellectual property of individuals that are NOT KeiGinya. And by most, that means all but one or two."

The pinkette then leaned in, squinting toward something to the right side of the 'window'. It then became apparent she was reading from a cue card, if the obvious use of the term 'intellectual property' from before wasn't a dead give away, when she spoke her next words distractedly. As if reading from something. Like a cue card.

"Happy Birthday to Hermione Granger and sorry for the long wait. The chapter was a 'percent sign-number sign-dollar sign-that weird thingy that looks like the letter a-and-exclamation mark' to write. End. Cut to— Oh," Anita stopped in sudden realization, looking up just in time to-

* * *

_Two days after McGonagall had taken off one-hundred and fifty house points and handed out detention to Harry, Hermione, and Neville, the twelve-year old Gryffindor was found in the library._

_There was immediate fall out over losing so many points in one fell swoop for Gryffindor, and it was unfortunate that other than a handful of lions, most were giving the trio of first years the cold shoulder. As a result, even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws gave the same treatment, since most never wanted Slytherin to win the house-cup and it was usually the Gryffindors that went head-to-head against the snakes._

_After two days, most of which was spent in horrific stupefaction over receiving a detention at all and losing _fifty_ points, Hermione was unable to take anymore and retreated into the haven of books like one would hide in a location they equated with safety._

_"Hermione!"_

_The first year looked up from the corner nook she had taken up, with head-high stacks of books covering her form like a makeshift barrier to the rest of the library – or, more likely, the rest of the students also present._

_Slightly tense, the brunette soon relaxed at the mop of bronze hair and gray eyes (showing no sign of antipathy) that was Cedric Diggory. The fourteen year old quirked his lips as his eyes alighted on the piles of books before returning his attention to Hermione, maneuvering so he sat next to her, considering he'd be unable to see her otherwise._

_"Isn't this a little drastic for the end of year exams? I'm not sure you need half these books for first year topics," Cedric remarked as he picked up a copy titled Encyclopedia of Toadstools, re-reading the name before wrinkling his brow in confusion. _

_He turned to the bushy-haired first year to ask why she had that particular book in the stack, only to pause as he noticed Hermione's agitated movements and how she seemed to purposely avoid his gaze._

_"Is something wrong?" Cedric inquired._

_Hermione bit her lower lip before turning to look at Cedric, taking another assessing look into his eyes._

_Cedric suddenly knew what was bothering the younger girl. "Does this have to do with how everyone is in a snit over losing over one-hundred points in one night?"_

_"One-hundred and fifty," Hermione corrected._

_"Other people's opinions don't matter, Hermione. They tend to overreact over the littlest things and take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it."_

_Hermione did not reply, though it was apparent she was considering his words._

_He smiled, "Ignore them. Knowing you, there was probably a good reason you were out late and McGonagall went overboard with the point deduction, in any case. Now, do you want some help reviewing? You're studying Charms, correct? I'll help you if quiz me on Potions."_

_The twelve year old gave Cedric a shy smile, her butterscotch-colored eyes showing a heartfelt gratitude that the teen felt happiness over because it was _his_ words that put it there._

_The fourteen year old would be unaware, but his words will stay with her for the rest of her life, shaping her never back-down attitude when it came to facing the world. Since, it was only individuals that mattered, as can be shown by the few that stuck by._

_Harry. Neville. Ron. Fred and George._

_Cedric._

* * *

**Once Upon A Hunter's Eve**

by _KeiGinya_

* * *

Chapter Three - Shade Adrift

* * *

With the sound of a cracking whip, Hermione Granger, with Flynn Carsen lightly gripping her shoulder, appeared in front of the brand new wrought iron gates of the Granger residence in Forks. Staggering only slightly and mentally glad she had skipped breakfast, Hermione thought she was getting used to the horrendous feeling of apparating.

Flynn breathed out a whistle. "Lovely place you have here, Miss Granger."

Brown eyes glanced around what could be readily seen. "Yes, I suppose so," Hermione remarked politely as she took in the massive amounts of greenery after a week's stay in Seattle – eight days, if their arrival on Friday evening counted. "Thank you, Mister Flynn, for apparating me— home. I'm sorry for requesting and possibly troubling you but there aren't flights between Seattle and Port Angeles."

The brown-haired man waved it away. "No problem at all! I am technically the governmental representative in charge of your welfare and this is just another way to make sure you're comfortably settled down."

He took out a pamphlet and handed it to the brunette, who looked at the cover.

"Since your birthday is next month, I figured you'd want to get the basic theory of apparition down before an official examiner knocks on your door. You'll be contacted a few days before, so the Department of Transportation could arrange an appointment with you, and I don't recommend attempting the practical aspect of it until the examiner is present.

"Also, I'd like to congratulate you on passing the AP Calculus Exam with flying colors; you'll be taking AP Calc BC once the semester starts as the two exams have to be taken in different years."

"What did I get?" Hermione was slightly nervous, thinking about the exam Flynn surprised her with and somehow convinced her to fill out.

"Don't worry, you received the highest score possible; a five," the man looked at her almost fondly before his expression changed to one of slight concern.

"Hermione, keep your ID with you at all times, alright? Forks has heavy rainfall so you wouldn't have to worry about vampires much but you're the only wizardess in the area – and while you are brilliant, you are still a _student_ – and the wet conditions makes it the worst area for a gremlin to pop-up at. Not to mention this type of setting is perfect stray werewolf territory. Remember: the SLAP does not need a wand to be activated, just the password you've set, and it transports only you."

After a few more words of exchange, Flynn disapparated back to New York with a crack of a whip, leaving Hermione to stare at the pamphlet in her hand for a long moment before she straightened and looked at the gate, her heart warming slightly when she saw her father opening the front door, no doubt brought out by the sound of disapparition.

Blue eyes lit up and he made his way down the walkway, Hermione darting through the opening gates as soon as there was enough room, and the father-daughter pair met each other halfway, embracing after being separate in what felt like ages.

They talked about their week in more detail, ignoring that the other already knew from the phone calls exchanged, just glad to be reunited, considering, deep inside, the gaping hole of where Rosaline Granger used to be still loomed darkly and made the fact they only had each other now all the more apparent.

"Where's your luggage?" Hugh asked, referring to the suitcase and possible bags from the shopping, glancing toward the gate.

"I can perform magic, now, daddy. Everything is in my bag."

Hugh pointedly looked at the small, blue and gunmetal netbook messenger bag before he decided not to ask.

"Let's head in; Ida should be just about done with brunch and you can see your room. We'll drive to Port Angeles later to buy linens and anything else that's missing."

"The house is bigger than I thought it would be."

Hugh opened the door and let Hermione enter first. "Your Uncle Teddy made a visit a few days ago," Hugh remarked. His words cut off as the door closed behind them, "Brought another antique as a house-warming gift. Neither Ida nor I know what to do with..."

* * *

Hermione actually had an entire floor to herself in the new house, on the third level – or the attic. She had her own private bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a sizable bedroom with the other room converted into a study. As for the storage areas, every nook and cranny was utilized to organize her vast library.

Almost all the walls were covered with bookcases except for the study, which oddly only contained a shelf, and her bedroom, containing a limited number of shelves (where only half of the items were books) along with a row of novels contained on the lower shelf of her nightstand.

The bedroom was fairly austere as far as furniture went, with a bed, dressing-table and a computer desk. The full-sized mattress sat atop the platform bed-frame, covered by an indigo quilt, and the desk only had an LCD monitor along with a neat stack of notes before it on the table-top, the tower beneath.

This was where Hermione spent most of her time after arriving in Forks, catching up on regular subjects on her desktop PC after reformatting and installing NoS, the generic operating system used by wizards, considering a student can only access their classes via compatible systems and Hermione was not proficient enough with computers to configure Windows to run the normal courses just yet.

While she was up to date with higher math, there was also the years of science she was obligated to go over even if Potions and Transfiguration did require a certain understanding of the subjects; middle- and high school science spanned many areas in which her purely magical education had ignored.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat anymore?" Ida asked after Hermione finally came downstairs for lunch. It had taken the older woman going up to the attic before the teenager looked away from the monitor and notes to get some sustenance into her.

The brunette stood up from her seat, leaving a mostly untouched plate of food before her. "Yes. I'm currently studying the Lorentz transformation which I'm frankly having trouble comprehending," Hermione replied distractedly, "I really need to get back..."

"Hermione," Ida called imploringly.

The brunette blinked and looked back to the older woman.

"Maybe you should take a break, you've been in front of the computer non-stop since you've arrived."

"But Ida, I haven't received a non-magical education since I was eleven! I have _years_ of topics to cover in one month!"

"I know, Miss, but giving your mind a rest might help you better take in and understand what you are studying."

Hermione just shook her head, "I don't have time for a rest, Ida. Orientation week for magical classes are less than a fortnight away and I haven't even _started_ catching up on the classes which I've never taken before!"

Ida opened her mouth in a continued attempt to persuade the fifteen year old but Hermione was already making her way back up to her room. Staring at the brunette's retreating back, the older woman pursed her lips into a frown as she picked up the plate. She dumped most of the leftover food into a bowl of scraps that would head straight into the compost bin before setting the dish in the sink.

Staring at the plate for a long moment, the gray-haired woman sighed and reached toward a cupboard...

* * *

Hugh Granger rubbed his eyes as he walked into the kitchen after returning from the hospital, having had to supervise a surgery of a hiker, who had taken a particular bad fall from traversing under bad lighting conditions, which lasted into the early hours of the morning.

With only a few hours before he had to head to the hospital again, Hugh made a strong cup of tea, intending to take a shower before handling bills that needed to be taken care of with the free time he had.

Removing the tea strainer from the mug, Hugh headed upstairs to his office. Taking out the bills that had to be seen to while drinking the tea, the forty-eight year old soon stood up after finishing his cuppa.

He was in the hall, heading to the master bedroom, before he was stopped by Crookshanks, the Maine Coon moggy his daughter bought two years ago, its orange eyes reflecting the minimal light, showing the cat was staring straight at Hugh.

Crookshanks twirled around once before heading up the stairs to the attic.

Raising an eyebrow, Hugh started after the orange tabby; he always thought that cat was smarter than usual and it was quite obvious it wanted to be followed.

Arriving at the landing just as Crookshanks's bushy tail disappeared on the other side of the slightly opened door, Hugh noticed the light was still on in Hermione's bedroom. Walking the few short steps necessary, he opened the door slightly and poked his head in, expecting his daughter to have fallen asleep studying or to have forgotten to close the lights.

With a frown, he walked further into the bedroom and checked his wristwatch. It was three-forty in the morning. Hugh looked back up, only to see Hermione still hunched over, busily scribbling something on a loose sheet of paper even though the door opening and his footsteps should have alerted her to his entrance.

"Hermione?"

The fifteen year old jumped in place before turning around. "Is it breakfast time already? I'm not really hungry—"

"Hermione, baby, it's three-forty in the morning; did you even go to sleep?"

The brunette blinked slightly and brushed a hand over her tied back hair. "I haven't noticed – I'm not really that tired."

Hugh walked up to his daughter, using two fingers to place a loose curl behind an ear. The dark circles under her eyes said otherwise.

"I'm just having a little trouble with going through inorganic chemistry right now. There's a lot to memorize and..."

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Hugh took in his daughter's lackluster complexion and bloodshot eyes.

"I-... I sleep."

"But are you getting enough?"

She wet her lips, "Probably not."

Hugh glanced at her notes and the computer monitor before straightening up. "Well, this can wait till after you've rested."

"Yes, daddy," Hermione replied with visible reluctance, releasing her pen atop her notes.

"Go to bed, Princess; I'll tell Ida to let you sleep in."

"Alright."

* * *

"Monsieur Granger, you must speak with your daughter," Ida proclaimed when Hugh came into the kitchen on Sunday morning, not needing to head for Forks Hospital until a little later in the day.

His ice-blue eyes glanced at the glass of pastis in the older woman's hands but did not comment over the early hour to be drinking; everyone had a different way of coping.

"What's the matter, Ida?"

"She is not eating! The Mademoiselle does not come down for meals anymore and when I bring something up for her, it is left _untouched_," the woman leaned in, "Soon she will be just skin and bones; her face is so thin!"

"And she's not sleeping," Hugh finished. After discovering Hermione's studies went late into the night three days ago, he had checked up on her occasionally, himself having trouble sleeping with his wife no longer by his side. While the fifteen year old was lying on the bed, she was obviously still not getting enough rest by the signs of her still prominent dark circles. He ran a hand through his straight, black hair as he stood up, "I'll talk to her."

The walk up to the attic was done with a heavy air, the doctor having a feeling he wouldn't like the upcoming conversation. He passed Crookshanks at the stairs, the cat more than likely heading down for breakfast, with the big ginger feline pausing slightly to flick its tail against Hugh's leg, as if giving him its version of an encouraging pat on the back.

That little encounter caused Hugh to smile a little, and he was able to brace himself before his daughter's bedroom door, expecting to see the brunette already at her desk working on differential equations or memorizing chemistry formulas when he looked into the room.

What he found instead, was his daughter lying curled under the dark-blue covers of her bed. Softening his footfalls, Hugh walked to the side which Hermione was facing, only to see brown eyes staring into the distance before focusing on him, a slight expression of surprise forming on her face.

Her previous look had chilled him; it had been like looking at a shell of a human.

That was what Hermione had been like, back since who knows when: a ghost.

Hugh refrained from showing a visible reaction over this revelation.

"Dad..."

"Hermione, did I wake you?"

"No," she shook her head slightly as she slid to a sitting position. "Breakfast?"

The dark-haired man remembered the plate of food set aside on the counter besides Ida. "Just about," he replied, "Actually, I wanted to speak with you. Ida said you haven't been eating."

"I'm... just busy," Hermione replied with audible exhaustion in her voice, as if speaking took an effort. "And don't really have an appetite."

Hugh sat down on the bed and reached over to feel her forehead with one hand, the other cradling her cheek to better take in her pallor, brows wrinkled in concern, "Are you feeling alright? You don't look so hot, baby."

"I'm just a little tired," she answered with effort, as if admitting it was a sign of giving in.

"Are you sleeping regularly?" Hugh asked, finally taking note of what Ida was talking about Hermione being thinner, though it could also just be the soon-to-be sixteen year old shedding her baby fat.

"I-I try, daddy."

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" blue eyes darted around her face, taking in the shadows under her eyes, to the slight moue and wrinkled brow.

Her face twisted further from slightly strained to actively looking like she was trying to hold back tears. "I see it happen every time, dad. I don't want to fall asleep and witness—"

Hugh hugged his daughter, suddenly understanding, "Oh, Hermione."

He seemed to have broken a dam, though; once the girl started, she didn't seem to want to stop. Hermione continued to expel her woe, "I see mom and– all the blood– she never gets back up. Never! And they never help. They try to bury it like her death was _nothing_—"

"Hermione!" Hugh decided to intercede when her tone turned from distraught to vehement, bringing up matters that he had all but resigned himself to. He forced down the bit of disgust her words brought forth toward her targets; Hermione needed him right now, he had no time to be drowning in his own malignant feelings. He hushed her.

The fifteen year old latched onto her father like a lifeline, Hugh soon feeling a dampness at his shoulders that told him he'd need to change his shirt after this. His daughter was a wreck, and the forty-eight year old's heart lurched slightly at the thought that not only had he lost his wife that day, but part of his daughter had died along with Rosaline.

"Baby, Hermione," Hugh began, his eyes wrinkled in slight distress of personally being unable to help her through this, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find someone else to help his daughter, "do you want to go to grief counseling?"

She sniffled slightly, "What do you mean?"

"You're having trouble sleeping and have a decreased appetite. You have dark circles and Ida said you've lost weight to prove it. If you can't talk to me, I want you to be able to go to someone, have them help you– move on. To continue living like your mother would have wanted you to."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, after Teddy visited, I've been keeping contact with acquaintances that currently stay in America. Gordon Wyatt – you know 'Gordon, Gordon Wyatt' – would probably be willing to see you at my request. He's currently in D.C now but—"

Hermione had tightened her grip painfully at the mention of the name but Hugh only now realized how stiff his daughter became.

"Hermione, is something wrong?"

"Doctor Wyatt, the psychiatrist employed by the likes of Interpol and the FBI?"

Hugh sighed, "Hermione, you really can't go on like this. He's—"

"I'll look for a solution in the magical world," Hermione declared as she straightened up, wiping the remnants of tears off her face.

He looked at his daughter with doubt, "The magical world?"

"Well, the bookstore in Dyern Alley," Hermione amended. "I need some supplementary material for certain subjects, so I had to make the trip either way. I'll look up some meditation methods while there."

Hugh frowned but did not disagree with her as meditation was a technique in therapy. He would let her try and if it wasn't enough, he would discuss this topic with her again, regarding outside help.

"I'll head there later in the day," Hermione said, her brown eyes staring back at blue.

"Is it open today?" Hugh asked somewhat doubtfully.

"...actually, I have a feeling it's open 24/7."

* * *

It took a considerable amount of effort for Hermione to ready herself for her trip, having not gone out of the house – or wandered outside the attic much at all, in fact – after the first few days it took her to settle in.

She was fatigued, and the fifteen year old had a slight feeling it wasn't just from haunting memories plaguing her in the night. The last few days, it took more and more out of her to get out of bed instead of lying there for the rest of the day, closing her eyes and cocooning herself in a fetal position to push away the living nightmare revitalized each night.

Her studies – it was like third year all over again. Only, instead of lack of sleep because of using a time-turner, it seemed like everything she read flowed through her fingertips like water. An inexorable amount of effort was spent re-reading passages since the brunette was having trouble memorizing it properly.

Hermione's father woke her up.

The fifteen year old knew she couldn't go on like this as her father was clearly worried for her. She was useless, only able to watch as her mother died; Hermione did not want to be unable to help her father. As an underage student, she couldn't do much, but she could make it so her father did not need to worry over her.

She needed to show she could take care of herself. That she was alright so he was reassured and would no longer have that crease in his brow when he looked at her, or frowned in concern.

He was the only thing she had left.

Clutching the echurnikey, the brunette activated it, and swooned when she arrived, discovering using an echurnikey when one felt less than stellar was a horrible idea. Her legs gave out as her complexion turned slightly green, though thankfully someone caught her before she could have a rough meeting with the ground.

"Whoa," the male voice sounded from next to her left ear, "Are you—"

He abruptly cut off his inquiry with an inhuman hiss, shoving her slightly away. Hermione was a bit steadier by then and managed to stay standing, half-turning to look at the man staring at her cross warily with green eyes, pupils contracted into thin slits.

"Oh, sorry," Hermione said to the vampire, "Thank you for catching me."

"Yeah, no prob," he said with a thick American accent Hermione couldn't pinpoint, still slightly wary. "You should see someone for whatever; you don't look so good," the vampire parted with those last words.

Hermione frowned as she turned toward the direction of the bookstore, reflexively bringing a hand up to touch her face. She mentally made a note to look in a mirror when she returned back to Forks, as vampires weren't the type to remark about health casually.

The bookstore at first looked like an apartment building – it was, in actuality, an apartment building before the owner bought and changed it into a bookstore. With only a plain sign, 'Books', atop the front door, it was slightly derelict compared to the more modern bookstores present up top.

Once a person entered, though, it was a gold-mine. Every inch of wall was covered with books with rows of cases stuffed with more. And there were four floors of this. The first floor was filled with general books, the second contained a comic section and imports, the third contained reference and books on magical subjects, while the fourth was where the obscure books (whether the topic or the tome itself) were kept.

Yomiko Readman, the owner and fellow Englishwoman, kept rare books on the top floor that were worth up to thirty-thousand dollars. She had opened up a store in a rapidly digitized society for individuals like Hermione, and to provide books on subjects not typically taught in the American Wizarding School Curriculum.

Hermione had bought a lot of Potions and Ancient Runes related books from her for self-study, though she hadn't opened any of them yet.

Yomiko was in her usual place, behind the counter on the first floor, reading a book.

Normally able to navigate a bookstore or library efficiently, Hermione truly had no idea where to start so went up to the bespectacled woman, who looked up as she stopped before the counter.

"Oh, Hermione, good morning," she quickly corrected herself, "Afternoon. Good afternoon. I really should call the girls to take a lunch break soon. Can I help you?" she asked when noticing Hermione's empty hands.

"I'm looking for something: a book on a method to – deal with a traumatic experience."

The woman blinked behind her large, black-framed glasses.

"Is there a," Hermione searched for a phrase, "mental discipline of some sort that allows a person to live life normally despite experiences that would prevent them otherwise?"

Yomiko seemed to try to read into the fifteen year old's very soul; a long silence passed.

Finally, the owner said, "Fourth floor, Mental Arts section. Check the fifth row."

"Thank you," Hermione said before turning toward the staircase.

"Please, don't tell Flynn," Yomiko called out, causing Hermione to look back in confusion.

"How do...?"

Yomiko just smiled slightly, "Former Librarian. We tend to keep in touch as a group."

The walk up the stairs was spent with Hermione's mind darting around a cloud of fog, much like how it had been since her mother's death. Instead of perusing the books that lined one side of the stairs, the fifteen year old drifted up the flights of stairs in an introspective daze until finally arriving at the fourth floor.

Unable to locate Maggie, the one in charge of this floor, at a glance, Hermione wandered the rows until finding the section she was directed to. Looking at the single bookcase, her eyes darted to the fifth row from the bottom. Going from left-to-right, she slowly perused the titles, occasionally taking a book out and flipping through it.

Her eyes stopped at one in particular. The black leather binding seemed blank at first, until she took a closer look and read the embossed title nearly camouflaged, being the same tone as the binding.

Occlumency.

* * *

End Notes: Rather somber chapter to be posted on the main gal's birthday but, ah well, circumstances messed with my writing schedule. I ended up splitting the chapter into two so, Geezus effing Edward, the male lead's entrance is pushed back a chapter! Not sorry about the decision, which was made for smoother flow (and, I should mention now, I'm not grouping chapters by length but by sections, though you wouldn't ever have to worry about chapters being as short as the prologue), but I am sorry that I might have given you guys bad intel. :bangs head on desk:

Reviews are more addicting than they should be. I squeezed out most of what's now in chapter four because of reviews received when I was in a writing rut. So thank you all.

Last scene, two words: Edward Cullen. Hee.


End file.
